The Underground
Page 31
Like most native tribes in the Sonora area, this tribe was multilingual, speaking both French and Spanish, as well as their native tongues. Since Pierce and the rest of his family were fluent French speakers, communication wasn’t going to be an issue.
“Bonjour. Heureux de vous rencontrer,” Pierce said.
“Mother, Father,” Waves of Strength said to the chief and Nascha. “This is Landcross’s wife, Taisia, his mother, Nona, father, Jasper, and grandmother, Élie Fey.”
Bloody hell, Pierce thought grimly. Are they her parents? Splendid.
A bit of information he wished he’d had gotten beforehand. After shooting their daughter in the arse, Pierce wondered just how welcomed he would be in the village.
After the pleasantries were done, they were brought to Chief Victorio’s hut for food and much-needed water. It was stifling inside. The only improvement was that the sun wasn’t beating down directly on them. Everyone took a seat around a fire pit under an open space directly above them. Pierce sat beside Taisia, who was next to his father. Nona sat between Jasper and Grandmother Fey. Chief Sea Wind and Waves of Strength took their place with Chief Victorio and Nascha across the way.
“We will keep the conversation in French,” Chief Victorio announced to the group.
“Merci,” Grandmother Fey said.
“How was your journey?” Nascha asked her daughter.
“The voyage fared well, Mother,” Waves of Strength replied. “We made it through the Atlantic and the Gulf without any trouble.”
“That is good to hear, Ela,” her mother said.
“I am no longer Ela,” Waves of Strength bleated. “Not for many years now.”
Nascha pinched her daughter’s cheek. “Ela is such a beautiful name.”
Waves of Strength flushed red with embarrassment. Pierce snickered, which caused Waves of Strength’s face to burn even hotter. Her irritated look was sharp enough to slice his head clean off.
Nascha turned her attention to Grandmother Fey. “Are you French?”
“Oui. I was born in Le Mans. Were you born here?”
“Arizona, then we traveled to New Mexico and parts of Texas before making our journey to Chihuahua. We arrived here many years ago.”
“You have traveled long distances,” Grandmother Fey noted.
“We are forced to.”
“I see,” Grandmother Fey whispered somberly. “I’m sorry.”
Nascha smiled warmly at her. “You’re a good-natured woman. I can sense that about you.”
A handful of natives entered, carrying food and cups of water. Pierce looked at the stack of acorn cakes. It was a simple dish, and a most welcomed one at that. He looked over at Taisia, wondering if she’d feel like eating. He’d seen pregnant women become violently ill at the sight of food.
Before he could ask, Taisia had already taken a bite. She closed her eyes as she chewed, letting out a slight moan that only he could hear. Confidant she was fine, he began eating.
“Pierce Landcross,” Chief Victorio said as the people who had carried in the food left.
“Sir,” Pierce responded, straightening his spine as much as his vertebrae would allow.
Normally, Pierce was the informal sort who referred to people by their first name. Chief Victorio struck Pierce as a man who didn’t necessarily demand respect but received it nonetheless.
“We have heard much about you, young man,” Chief Victorio said. “We’ve been told you’re an outlaw in Europe.”
Pierce eyed Waves of Strength, for he suspected she had told them.
“I was pardoned,” Pierce explained.
The chief’s attention shifted over to Taisia. “And your wife. Is she a free woman?”
Pierce understood why he wanted to know. The magnitude of inhuman cruelty inflicted upon the Africans for the past two hundred years was still being carrying on in the American southlands.
“I have always been a free woman, Chief Victorio,” Taisia answered for herself. “No one will ever own me.”
Pierce grinned widely at her. “Oui. If anything, she owns me.”
She slapped him on the arm. “I do not. Stop that!”
Everyone laughed.
After dinner, Waves of Strength and Nascha took Taisia, Nona, and Grandmother Fey away to show them where they were going to sleep. The men stayed behind.
“Our daughter told us your wife is expecting. How far along is she?” Chief Victorio asked, stuffing tobacco into a long wooden pipe.
“She’s only two months, Chief,” Pierce answered.
The old chief’s thin lips rose at the corners. “Children are a blessing. Cherish them, Landcross.”
“I intend to, sir.”
Chief Sea Wind bowed his head. His expression was somber.
“What is the matter, Captain Sea Wind?” Jasper asked.
The chief raised his chin to him. “Not all can have little ones to cherish.”
Pierce had known for some time that Chief Sea Wind and Waves of Strength were unable to conceive. A cruel irony.
“Let us smoke,” Chief Victorio said, striking a match.
Nothing much else was discussed as they passed the pipe around. Jasper, not used to smoking, coughed. Pierce expected to do the same, yet, strangely, when he filled his lungs with smoke, there was a familiar sensation that ignited a certain pleasure. This was the first time Pierce had ever smoked tobacco, and yet it was as if his body was welcoming an old friend. When he had partaken in Juan Fan’s opium den, he hadn’t experienced this reaction. He ignored it and passed the pipe on.
“We are united as peaceful beings,” Chief Victorio announced.
* * *
Night thankfully arrived, taking the sun out of the sky and dropping the temperature as it went. The Apache tribe held a welcoming celebration for their guests. The hunters returned with enough mule deer to feed the whole village. As the meat and other dishes were being prepared, Pierce helped start up the bonfire before joining Taisia on the blanket where she was sitting nearby.
“Are you well, love?” he asked, sitting next to her.
“I am now that the day has ended,” she said, leaning against him.
“Aye, it was brutal.”
“I fear I shall be spending most days inside our stuffy house when I cannot withstand the heat.”
Pierce glanced down at her clothing. Like his, it was tailored with heavy European fabrics. She had changed into a new dress before their voyage across the Atlantic, but it didn’t change the fact that the gown wasn’t equipped for the desert climate.
“I’ll go into Guaymas tomorrow and get us some supplies and new clothing,” he said. “Chief Sea Wind has loads of pesos, it turns out.”
She looked over at him. “You are such a good man, Pierce Landcross.”
“You’re my wife, and I am your husband. It’s our job to look after each other,” he told her tenderly.
They kissed and Taisia nestled against him.
“Besides,” he went on, “if I don’t get Mum some tea to drink in the morning, I doubt we’ll survive the week.”
Taisia snorted. “I’m sure. It appears Grandmother Fey and Nascha have taken a liking to each other.”
Sitting on the other side of the bonfire, the two women were chatting and laughing. It was a pleasant sight to see Grandmother Fey enjoying herself with someone other than family.
“Aye,” he agreed simply.
A group of children came up to them. Among them was Sees Beyond’s son, Tarak.
“‘Ello, Tarak,” Pierce greeted him in English, for Sees Beyond had taught him.
“Hello, Mr. Landcross,” the lad said politely. “Mother has told me a lot about you.”
A proud smirk played across his face. “Eh? And what did she say?”
“She said you have the same brand symbol we use to mark our horses.”
His smirk dropped. “Did she now?”
“Can we see?” Tarak requested in French so his mates could understand. “S’il vous pla
it?”
The rest of the little sods nodded enthusiastically. Pierce didn’t fancy the idea of showing off the scar that a vengeful woman had given him.
“Go on,” Taisia urged unhelpfully. “Show them.”
He gave her disapproving glare, but it did nothing to shrink her grin.
“Please, Mr. Landcross,” Tarak pleaded again.
Pierce felt he was being backed into a corner.
“Right. Fine.”
He unbuttoned a couple of his shirt buttons and pulled his lapel away. The children leaned in close to get a better look, some pushing each other.
“It’s true!” a girl declared. “He has been branded like our ponies. He’s our Łigai Thii!”
The children laughed.
“Lig—what?” Pierce asked.
“Łigai Thii,” repeated Tarak. “It means ‘white horse.’ You’ve been branded by this tribe’s symbol, so it’s almost as if you belong to us.”
Pierce remembered when Waves of Strength had fried his flesh with that blasted brander. Afterward, she’d stated he was now Apache property.
“Grand,” he grunted.